


Love, Love, Love

by weiss_schnee



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Self-Insert, a lil angsty, unrequited...or is it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weiss_schnee/pseuds/weiss_schnee
Summary: The annual work party was supposed to be a quick affair. A hi-and-bye to those who mattered and you could go home. Until you spy a familiar and painful crush.
Relationships: Greg House/Reader, Greg House/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68





	Love, Love, Love

The sound of your heels clicked against the floor as you shifted your weight nervously. You didn’t want to be here.  
It was the end of your shift. Paper cuts lined your fingernails from filing and your back ached from pulling out heavy file cabinets. Your patience was wearing ultimately thin as you were tasked with acting as Cuddy’s sub while she was on vacation. Pressing the level button, you turned to the long mirror of the elevator, absent-mindedly adjusting your dress. You pulled at the loose strands of hair at the top your ponytail as you tightened it. The floor number on the elevator panel beeped as it slowly increased.  
_Cancún, huh?_... You thought, _How lucky._ You scoffed inwardly as you thought about Cuddy's vacation. You knew at the end of the day you couldn’t _really_ be mad her. Cuddy of all people needed a vacation… but did she really need to leave right before Christmas? Right before the annual Christmas party? The _pretty-much-mandatory_ and very _important_ Christmas party? You wouldn’t mind her leaving if it didn’t mean you would be going in her stead. But sadly, that was exactly what it meant. 

The ding of the elevator brought you back to reality as it landed on your floor. It was just half a night schmoozing with wealthy hospital donors and patronizing department heads. Nothing you couldn’t handle. Stepping out of the elevator, you walked into a crowded event room, the space merrily decorated in expensive looking decorations. A thick tree with shiny ornaments stood in one corner as golden garlands hung from the moldings. It was admittedly swanky, with a top shelf open bar, a generous buffet arrangement and various setups with tabletop games for the guests entertainment. Familiar faces dotted the crowd as you recognized one or two important directors from Cuddy’s crash course on who was who. _This won’t kill me_ , you thought to yourself, anticipating a steady night of mingling. Maybe you’d even get a drink or two. 

What _was_ going to kill you was what you saw next, or rather, _who_. 

As you settled in at the bar, rum and coke in hand, you caught sight of another face, sitting at a craps table towards the back of the hall. An all-too-familiar face, with blue eyes that pierced through a crowd filled with people less important than him and found only you. House.  
  
What the _fuck_ was he doing here?  
  
Anxiety flooded the top of your stomach as you noticed him staring only at you, barely paying attention to the game but you got the feeling he was still winning anyway. You struggled to tear your eyes away and back to your drink. Should you approach him? After what happened? He definitely saw you so should you get up and say hello? Pretend you didn’t see him? Ignore your obligations to greet half the room and slip out onto the balcony? 

_Dammit._ He was coming your way.  
  
You choked down a bit of your drink. The more you thought about talking to House again the more the anxiety dissipated and was replaced with melancholy. He told you that he couldn’t love you.  
And that you _should_ and _had_ to accept that. You kept repeating that last part to yourself.  
You grimaced a little at the memory as you swallowed more of your drink. You heard the distinctive thumping of House’s cane as it came closer, almost deafening against the clamor of background chatter. You decided you weren’t going to shrink away. You were bigger than that.   
  
You swiveled in your barstool to face him, but all you could manage was a loaded “Hey.”  
“Hello again,” He greeted with a rise of his brow, settling in to the barstool next to you. He ordered a single malt whiskey with just a gesture.  
“Funny meeting you here.”  
“That was my line.” You responded, being reminded just how odd it was to see him there. A beat of silence passed between the two of you that could have expanded for miles. You broke it after a minute.  
“So what are you doing here, House? I thought this party was for rich investors, not lowly physicians.” You teased.  
He let out a short laugh. “I’ve made it a point to crash every party Cuddy’s invited to.” He said, sipping his whiskey. A simple yet very House-like answer, you noted.  
“Ah yes, and because I’m the substitute Cuddy for tonight you’re going to make _my_ life hell.” You said, amused.   
“Bingo.”  
  
The feeling of anxiety, melancholy and rum mingled within your belly.  
  
“You look good.” You heard him say to you. It sounded like it took alot of effort to push those words out of his mouth but you appreciated it nonetheless.  
“You too.” You said thickly, staring into your drink. You snuck a glance at his face. A smile, albeit a pitying one. Your heart betrayed you as it swelled. The ice shifted in your glass as it melted.  
  
“It’s getting a little too...rich in here.” He said, swiveling in the barstool to survey the room as it filled more with expensive suits and luxury dresses. “Let’s move this to the balcony.”   
  
The weather was frigid but the third glass of rum that was running through your blood warmed your cheeks. You two weren’t the only ones on this balcony as pairs of other guests shared fat cigars and tall glasses of champagne. House pulled out a pack of cigarettes you knew he shouldn’t have.  
  
“Want one?” He offered. You bit back your usual chiding and took him up on his offer. With a flick of his lighter, he brought it up to your lips. The glow of the flame was intense between the two of you, as he leaned in closer. It flared up quickly in front of your nose and then fizzled as your cigarette was lit. You let out a cursory puff of smoke. The air was cold but content. It was palatable. Manageable.  
Until House opened his mouth again.  
  


“I’m sorry.” He said, leaning against the stone railing. The words seemed to take forever to come out, almost as if the entire moment was in slow-motion. “Maybe I _am_ the bad guy.”   
  
You took a long drag to avoid answering.  
“Why?” You asked finally. You knew this was coming. You knew you shouldn’t have come out here with him.  
  


“For not...caring for you the way I should have.” You could hear him struggle against those words again as he pushed them past his teeth and out into the air in a puff of frost.  
  
You bit your tongue, fighting to keep words from leaking out like champagne in a hurried, drunken spill. The cold was beginning to sting your eyes as a tear ran past your cheek. You could crush the cigarette between your fingers thinking about how badly you wanted him to hold you in that moment. How badly you wanted him to run his fingers against the goosebumps forming on the top of your skin. You wanted him to shield you from this cold and deafeningly silent night. Your heart beat painfully at the thought. But you knew better than that.  
  
“I think it’s best if we both forget. Before we dwell on it.” You sucked in one last puff of your cigarette and crushed it harshly against the stone railing. You’ve had enough. It was about time to go. You started back towards the balcony doors, suddenly eager to get back to the monotony of the party, of your boring desk job and of your life before House was in it.  
  
He winced a little at your sharp motion, letting the sound of your heels drown out his next words.   
“I wanted to love you.” He called after you, staring out past the balcony, not daring to turn and watch you walk away.  
  
You stopped and with an incredulous scoff said, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry i didnt edit as much as i wanted to but i reaaally wanted to get this out before christmas as a gift to everyone who actually read my last House fic! this was heavily inspired by the song Love, Love, Love by of monsters and men! thanks again for reading and of course indulging with me in this :)


End file.
